


Arden

by the_alchemist



Category: As You Like It - Shakespeare
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 01:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_alchemist/pseuds/the_alchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The transformative powers of the Forest of Arden help Rosalind and Celia's friendship blossom into something more. But what happens when it's time for them to leave and start their new lives as married women?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zoicite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoicite/gifts).



Together they had gathered wood from the forest floor,brought it back to the cottage and lit the stove. The pantry had flour in it, but there was no oven, so they couldn't make bread. Instead, they mixed it with some eggs and sheep's milk and made pancakes, which they ate with fried mushrooms and turnip greens.

"Food really does taste better when you've made it yourself," said Rosalind, clearing the wooden bowls away.

"Perhaps," said Celia, picking up the bucket and opening the door. "I still wish we had someone to fetch water and wash up though."

"Aha!" said Rosalind, when Celia returned with the full bucket. "I've just worked out what this thorn twig is for." She brandished it in the air. "It's instead of a brush for washing dishes, look!"

When they had washed up, they lit candles and curled up on the bed together.

"I'm still hungry," said Celia. "I wish I could ring for a dish of lampreys."

"No you don't," said Rosalind. "You've never tasted lampreys before."

"Don't be silly!" said Celia.

" _Aliena_ hasn't," said Rosalind. "Remember? Even when we're on our own, we should get used to thinking of each other as Ganymede and Aliena."

"All right." Celia smiled. "Let's play questions for practice."

"Me first!" said Rosalind. "Aliena. What's your favourite colour?"

"Green," said Celia. "The green of young leaves in spring. Ganymede, what do you like best to eat?"

"Mushrooms and turnip tops," said Rosalind. "As cooked by the fair hand of my Aliena."

Celia giggled. "You next," she said.

"Aliena," said Rosalind. "When you marry, what sort of man shall it be?"

"Not too tall," said Celia. "He shouldn't have to stoop far to kiss me. And not too short either."

"About my height then?" said Rosalind.

"Yes," said Celia. "That would do me well enough."

"What colouring?"

"Neither black nor fair–"

"Brown haired then?"

"Yes," said Celia. "Not darker than yours though."

"Nor much lighter?" Rosalind's eyes twinkled.

"Not _too_ much lighter, no," said Celia. "And green eyes."

"The same green as mine, perchance?" said Rosalind.

Celia looked deeply into Rosalind's eyes for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she said. "A prettier shade of green than yours."

"Why, you wench!" said Rosalind, and started tickling Celia under her arms."

"Stop it," said Celia, fighting back and laughing. "It's ungentlemanly. It's ... it's ... _Roz_!"

"And this," said Rosalind, throwing Celia onto her back, "is for getting my name wrong." She kissed her on the neck, blowing a raspberry at the same time, which made Celia's eyes widen in delight. She had never felt anything quite like that before, except sometimes at night when she touched herself.

Rosalind took off her doublet, threw it to the floor and flopped down so she was lying on her front by Celia's side.

"My turn!" said Celia, untying the lace at the front of her bodice. "Ganymede. Is there a lady you love?"

"No," said Rosalind.

"Oh." Celia pouted to hide her actual disappointment.

"No," continued Rosalind, "my leman is certainly not a lady. She is the basest of wenches, vulgar and unrefined, twice as common as muck."

"If she heard you say that she would probably punish you," said Celia, kneeling up and starting to spank Rosalind, who wriggled deliciously, but did not actually try to escape, until at last she rolled onto her back and pulled Celia on top of her. They kissed properly then, and when they parted, Celia saw that Rosalind looked as surprised as she, Celia, felt.

Then Rosalind blinked, sat up, took off her hose and started trying to undo the cloth that bound her breasts.

"Let me," said Celia, unpicking the tight knot, then unwinding the white bands. "Poor Ganymede," she said. "I didn't know it was so tight." Then she stood up and let her kirtle fall to the floor so she was standing there in just her shift.

"I wish I had my sketchbook," said Rosalind. "You're very beautiful."

Celia laughed. "I thought we were supposed to think of each other as Ganymede and Aliena," she said. "And I'm sure _Ganymede_ can think of something much better to do with a beautiful woman than sketch her," said Celia.

Rosalind stood up, and pulled the shift over Celia's head, then removed her own shirt, so they were both naked. Celia kissed Rosalind between the breasts, enjoying their downy softness against both her cheeks, then allowed Rosalind to lead her by the hand back to bed.

 

"I'll miss this place," said Rosalind, packing up what few of her possessions she had taken with her into exile, and setting the things that belonged to the cottage neatly back in their places.

Celia didn't answer, but just stared out of the window.

"Just think, coz," said Rosalind, "we're married women now, or will be tonight." She stopped tidying, and put her arm round Celia. "I'm glad I'm not altogether as much of a virgin as some," she said. "It makes it less frightening."

Celia turned furiously to her. "Is that all it was to you?" she asked. "Practice for your wedding night?"

"Oh Celia!" Rosalind's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. No, of course not. Of course that wasn't all. You are very dear to me, sweet coz." She tried to hug her, but Celia pulled away.

"But you prefer Orlando," said Celia.

"No!" said Rosalind. "That's not how it is at all. I love both of you. I want both of you. But Arden is Arden and the world is the world and it's time to move on, to be wives and mothers, mistresses of our own households. Think what it will be like to watch our children play together, Celia! We're sisters now as well as cousins, and we can see each other every day."

"And at night?"

Rosalind moved closer to Celia again, and kissed her softly on the lips. There was no resistance. "I've ... talked to Orlando," she said. "He knows. He doesn't mind."

"Well," said Celia. "I haven't talked to Oliver."

"But you can do! If he's anything like his brother–"

"He isn't, Rosalind," interrupted Celia. "We both know that. And I don't mean I haven't talked to him about you, I mean I've barely talked to him at all. I barely know him, and what I do know is mostly bad."

"He's changed," said Rosalind.

"And what's to say he won't change back again?" replied Celia. "Or get worse?"

Rosalind stared at her for a few moments, then hung her head. "I've been very selfish," she said.

But Celia folded Rosalind in her arms. "Well," she said, "it's done now and perhaps it will turn out all right." Holding hands, they walked down the path from their little cottage for the last time, towards their waiting husbands.


End file.
